


Mutually Assured Distraction

by renaissance



Series: Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week 2015 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Arcades, HQ Rarepair Week, M/M, Type 9 Love Triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Konoha likes Bokuto. Akaashi likes Bokuto. Bokuto's just looking forward to a great day out with two of his best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mutually Assured Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> [Haikyuu!! Rarepair Week](http://hqrarepairweek.tumblr.com/) Day 3: Date ~~/ Seasons~~
> 
>  
> 
> This started out as me wanting to write something set in Tokyo, and ended as... well, _this_. It was actually the first piece for this week that I finished writing, and I powered through it because it was way too much fun. Hopefully you'll enjoy it too!

Konoha is not stupid. He may feel like he's splashing around helplessly in infuriatingly shallow water, but he is _not_ stupid. There are two things he knows for certain about his current predicament, the first being that he has a big, daft, inexplicable crush on the captain of his volleyball team, and the second, that he has a rival.

Ever since Akaashi joined the volleyball club, he's had a certain rapport with Bokuto, an easy companionship and a sort of symbiotic relationship that sometimes has Konoha fuming with jealousy, despite his better judgement. He supposes it's only natural that every ace has their favourite setter, but setters shouldn't choose favourites. Akaashi should not be so attached to Bokuto.

From the sidelines, Konoha closes his water bottle with so much force that it leaves a mark on his palm. He watches Bokuto spike one of Akaashi's tosses and hoot jubilantly as the ball smashes down on the other side of the net.

Bokuto approaches Akaashi for a high-five, something Akaashi always reciprocates with a look on his face that makes him seem like he's not so into it. Unfortunately, Konoha can see right through that expression.

Akaashi heads to the sidelines and sits down next to Konoha, grabbing his water bottle.

“Exhausted already?” Akaashi asks, not taking his eyes off Bokuto.

“Not really,” Konoha replies, training his eyes over to the other side of the court, where Bokuto is talking to Komi and Sarukui about something.

He's seized by a sudden idea, to take a chance that he might not have again any time soon. This is a now-or-never situation.

“Hey, Akaashi,” he says, “you're pretty fond of Bokuto, huh?”

Akaashi is quiet for a moment before responding. “Yeah,” he says. “So are you, though, right?”

Konoha glares at Akaashi out of the corner of his eyes. He hadn't been expecting that. “Yeah,” he says eventually.

Akaashi huffs, and puts his water bottle down beside him. “So what're you going to do about it? Ask him out?”

“Are _you_ going to?” Konoha shoots back.

“I've considered it,” Akaashi says, in the same tone that someone might use to say they were considering becoming an undertaker.

Konoha pulls his arms into a stretch. “I guess this is war, then.”

Akaashi laughs at that. “Why don't we settle this before anyone gets hurt?”

“What, right now?” Konoha asks.

“If you want,” Akaashi says.

“Okay,” Konoha says, “here's an idea: let's go up to him right now. Let's both ask him out for the weekend, and see who he picks.”

“That's a terrible idea,” Akaashi says.

“Ah, come on,” Konoha says, leaning into Akaashi’s personal space, “you want this resolved as much as I do.”

“I’d rather we resolve this more sensibly,” Akaashi says, screwing up his nose and shifting away from Konoha.

“You want to draw straws?” Konoha suggests. “Flip a coin? Heads, he’s mine; tails, he’s yours? If you’ve got a better idea, Akaashi, I’m all ears.”

Akaashi grimaces. He slides his fingers around his water bottle, making like he’s going to pick it up, but then he pulls his hand away and brings it up to his mouth, resting his elbow on his knee.

“Well?” Konoha says.

“Fine,” Akaashi says. “Let's do it.”

They stand up, abandoning their water and setting out across the court. Konoha has to lengthen his strides to keep up with Akaashi, but he's too determined to feel embarrassed. His eyes are fixed on Bokuto, leaning against the wall, still chatting to Komi and Sarukui.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, “we'd like a word.”

“Pineapple!” Bokuto shouts. “Do you want another?”

Konoha forces his mouth into a frown, pretending that he isn't absolutely charmed by Bokuto’s primary school sense of humour. “Just a quick chat,” he says.

“Sure,” Bokuto says, “what about?”

Sarukui is first to pick up on the mood, and he nudges Komi. “Hey, let's go to the bathroom.”

“What, you need a chaperone?” Komi jokes, but he lets himself be dragged off anyway.

Konoha and Akaashi stare each other down, daring the other to speak. After a beat, Akaashi breaks the silence.

“I thought we might see a film this Saturday, Bokuto-san,” he says, “and go out for dinner afterwards.”

Before Bokuto can respond, Konoha cuts him off. “I had a better idea, though— _we_ could go to the arcade, and play DDR until our feet hurt.”

“Oh no,” Bokuto says, his head drooping a bit. “Those both sound like lots of fun!”

“You have to choose one,” Konoha says.

“I trust your instinct, ace,” Akaashi says, and Konoha scowls at him.

Bokuto perks up, and claps a hand on each of their shoulders. “Okay!” he says. “How about a compromise? Let's go to the arcade, and then get dinner, and then see a movie if we're not all exhausted by then!”

“Wait—” Akaashi begins.

“That wasn't quite—” Konoha says, at the same time.

“Great!” Bokuto says. “I can't wait to spend a whole day with two of my favourite people!”

He releases their shoulders and skips off, humming to himself. Konoha and Akaashi stay rooted to the spot, and slowly Konoha turns to look at Akaashi. “That could have gone better,” he says.

“Arguably,” Akaashi says.

“So what're we going to do, huh?” Konoha asks.

“I think we should do exactly what we both set out to do,” Akaashi says. “We've got a date with Bokuto, after all.”

 

* * *

 

Konoha’s the first one there on Saturday. He knows it’s because Bokuto and Akaashi live on the same train line, and because they probably texted each other to co-ordinate, and because he looked up their timetable and the most convenient train got there ten minutes later than his.

Not that he’s jealous, or anything.

Right on time, though, they appear from the direction of the station, walking side-by-side and matching each other’s stride. Konoha pulls himself up to his full height—still shorter than both of them, but it makes him feel more like he’s capable of pulling their weird relationship to shreds.

When Bokuto catches sight of Konoha, he breaks into a run and outpaces Akaashi. Konoha relaxes a bit.

“Hey, hey, Konoha! Did you wait long?”

“Not at all,” Konoha says. “Just a few minutes.”

Akaashi catches up, and narrows his eyes. Konoha wonders if Akaashi looked up his timetable too.

“Great!” Bokuto says. “You ready to get your ass kicked at DDR?”

“Only if you’re ready to be proved wrong,” Konoha says, punching him in the arm.

“Those are fighting words!” Bokuto shouts.

He forges forwards towards the arcade, and Konoha and Akaashi follow at a more sensible pace. Konoha has experienced his fair share of comfortable silences, and awkward silences, and this is neither of those. This is a silence with sharp corners and an angry buzzing in the background.

“I won’t lose to you,” Konoha says, because he hates silence.

“Don’t count on it,” Akaashi says.

When they get to the arcade, Bokuto is bouncing up and down on his heels. “C’moooon, you guys, don’t be so slow!”

“I’m conserving my energy,” Akaashi says, “so that I can destroy _both_ of you.”

“You want to fight that bad, huh?” Bokuto asks. “I’ll take you on first, then!”

As Bokuto rushes to claim the nearest DDR machine, Akaashi shoots a smirk over his shoulder at Konoha. Konoha sticks out his tongue, because they’re long past settling this sensibly.

Still, he can’t help but feel his cheeks heating up as the song starts playing, the two of them in motion while he watches from the sidelines. Bokuto is all attitude and no precision when it comes to dancing, whereas Akaashi moves like a guided missile. They both look like they’re having fun, though, and that’s what gets to Konoha. He starts getting fidgety, and the three minute song feels like three hours.

“Aw,” Bokuto says, “you beat me!”

“You need to watch where you’re putting your feet,” Akaashi says, extending an arm to help Bokuto off the machine.

Bokuto isn’t budging, though. “Hey, Konoha, get up here! I’ll be sure to beat you!”

“Yeah, right,” Konoha says, jumping up onto the platform next to Akaashi. “Move aside.”

Akaashi rolls his eyes, but he gets out of the way.

Konoha lets Bokuto pick the song, and purposefully fumbles a few of his steps so that he never gets a good combo going. If Akaashi’s skill left Bokuto feeling dejected, then Konoha would be the one to make him feel good about himself again. He glances at Bokuto—he’s got a determined grin on his face, which is something.

This time, it seems like a matter of seconds before the song ends. Bokuto wins, but only by a few hundred points.

“Yessss!” he says, punching the air. “How about that, Konoha?”

“Tch,” Akaashi says, “he was going easy on you.”

Konoha has never wanted to punch someone so much in his life.

“There’s only one way to find out for sure,” Bokuto says.

Akaashi smiles in a way that Konoha could only describe as openly threatening. “Move aside, Bokuto-san.”

“Ohoho,” Bokuto says. “Konoha, you’re going to get wrecked!”

“Don’t count on it,” Konoha says, steeling himself.

“What do you say to upping the difficulty?” Akaashi asks.

Konoha grips onto the bar behind him, and twists to face Akaashi. “Bring it on.

The music starts, and they have a few seconds before the arrows reach the top of the screen. Konoha feels his heart beating twice as fast. He puts it down to the thrill of competition. They’re rivals, after all, fighting to be the one to impress Bokuto. It’s only natural that there are butterflies in his stomach and jitters running down his legs.

When the first arrow hits its mark, Konoha steps with the same sense of purpose he tries to put into every ball he spikes. He’s so focused that he doesn’t stop to check how Akaashi’s doing, or to look behind him and gauge Bokuto’s reaction. All he can hear is the music, and the vague noises that Akaashi makes whenever he screws up—about the same times as when Konoha screws up.

He barely even notices the song ending.

“Damn,” he says. “That was—”

The score pops up on the screen. Konoha’s mouth snaps shut. Akaashi won, but they’re less than a hundred points apart, and their longest combos are the same length, fifty-three arrows. He snaps around to look at Bokuto, and Akaashi does the same.

“Bokuto-san, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto says, his voice on the quiet side. “I’ve just… never seen two people so in sync…”

“You should toss to me more often, Akaashi,” Konoha jokes.

Bokuto doesn’t seem to find it very funny. “Let’s do something else now,” he declares.

“Of course,” Akaashi says, off the platform in a flash. “Why don’t we try the claw machine?”

“Ooh!” Bokuto says, perking up a bit. “I’m going to catch one of those weird alien toys!”

“I’ll catch it for you,” Konoha says, catching up as Bokuto bounces off.

“I’ll catch it,” Akaashi says, with a bit too much certainty in his voice for Konoha’s liking.

“You guys don’t need to go to the trouble,” Bokuto says, laughing. “I’ll get it myself!”

Bokuto’s long and exuberant strides take him ahead, so Konoha hangs back, giving Akaashi a glare just for good measure. “You won’t win this round,” he says.

“Sorry, Konoha-san,” Akaashi says, “but I don’t intend to lose.”

There are two claw machines free, so Bokuto sets up at one, and Konoha elbows Akaashi aside to nab the other.

“Watch and learn, Akaashi.”

It’s only a few seconds into it that Konoha learns that Akaashi has _opinions_ about the proper use of claw machines.

“No, that’s not how you’re meant to—”

“Don’t care,” Konoha says.

“You’re not going to get it like that,” Akaashi says.

“Listen,” Konoha says, “I have a technique. My technique does not involve people telling me what I could be doing better.”

“You should learn by example, then,” Akaashi says, and before Konoha can register what’s happening, Akaashi’s hands are on his, yanking him away from the joystick.

Konoha hangs on for dear life. “Ugh, get off! Pay your own money for a turn!”

“I can’t watch this,” Akaashi says, prising Konoha’s fingers apart with his own and pressing his palms down on the back of Konoha’s hands.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Konoha snaps, pushing back with what pressure he can muster while still controlling the joystick. “It’s just a claw machine!”

“It takes _skill_ ,” Akaashi says through clenched teeth.

Konoha puts his back into it, trying to nudge Akaashi out of the way with his shoulder. He lifts a foot, pressing the sole of his shoe against the machine for purchase. It works, and Akaashi is thrown backwards by Konoha’s weight—but with the loss of support, Konoha loses his grip and crashes backwards on top of Akaashi. As he falls, he watches in anguish as the claw springs back to its resting position.

“Get up,” Akaashi demands from somewhere underneath Konoha’s back.

“Don’t want to,” Konoha says, eyeing the claw machine like it has personally betrayed him.

Bokuto appears in his field of vision, looming over the casualties of war on the sticky arcade floor. “Check it out!” he says, “I caught one!”

“Nice one, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. “I’d congratulate you, but there’s a useless, uncoordinated lump lying on top of me.”

“ _Konoha_ ,” Bokuto scolds, “get up so Akaashi can congratulate me!”

“Congratulations,” Konoha says, not moving.

Bokuto kicks him in the leg. “C’mon, Konoha, don’t be a—”

“ _Fine_ ,” Konoha says, trying to act like he’s not just doing it because he doesn’t want to disappoint Bokuto. He hauls himself to his feet, and doesn’t stop to help Akaashi up. Akaashi can—and _does_ —get up by himself.

“Congratulations, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto beams, and Konoha feels like throwing up. He takes a moment to steady himself, purposefully not looking in the direction of the claw machine. Unfortunately, Bokuto seems to follow his gaze because, a moment later, he points and yells.

“PURIKURA!”

Bokuto is gone in a flash, running towards the photobooths.

Akaashi sighs loudly. “We should follow him.”

“I take it you’re not a fan,” Konoha says.

“Not really,” Akaashi says. “I don’t like being photographed in general.”

“You’re just jealous because I’m more photogenic than you,” Konoha says, shrugging and heading off to follow Bokuto. If Akaashi misses out, it’s not Konoha’s problem.

Akaashi comes anyway.

“You guys ready to get your pose on?” Bokuto says, settling into the middle of the booth.

“Of course,” Konoha says, positioning himself as far away from Akaashi as possible. He’s used to this. When they were in first year, Bokuto would drag everyone out to the arcade after practice, and it would inevitably end in purikura. And, if Akaashi didn’t have the experience—well, Konoha would use that to his advantage.

They get in place for the first photo, and Konoha moves to sling an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders—only to find that Akaashi’s arm is already there. He bites back a curse and plonks his arm on top of Akaashi’s, because it would be weird to pull away at this point. Akaashi’s arm jerks at the contact, and it’s a second later that Konoha realises that Akaashi’s trying to push him away. He digs his fingers into Akaashi’s shoulder and grins at the sharp intake of breath he can hear from the other side of Bokuto.

For the second photo, Bokuto ducks down, throwing their arms off. Konoha overbalances, but he manages to turn it into a pose just in time for the flash to go off, balancing himself with his hand still on Akaashi’s shoulder.

For the third, Akaashi shoves Konoha away from him, and Konoha hits the other wall of the booth, accidentally kicking Bokuto.

For the fourth, Konoha throws the first punch. Akaashi’s out swinging for the second, though, but Konoha dodges, and _fast_.

For the fifth, Akaashi grabs Konoha by the front of his shirt and shoves him against the wall. Konoha is breathing heavily now—he hasn’t been in a fistfight since middle school, and he doubts Akaashi has _ever_. Konoha also notes that they’re pretty close. Not far off kissing distance. That the thought even occurs to Konoha makes him twice as furious, and he clenches his fists.

For the sixth photo, they notice that Bokuto isn’t there anymore.

Akaashi lets go of Konoha’s shirt and forges out of the photobooth, and Konoha isn’t far behind.

“Bokuto-san?”

From in front of the photo editing screen, Bokuto laughs. “Thought I’d get a head start,” he says.

“I was worried,” Akaashi says.

“ _We_ were worried,” Konoha corrects.

“No need,” Bokuto says, happily drawing away on one of the photos. “There are some good ones here.”

Konoha peers over Bokuto’s shoulder. There’s a photo of Akaashi backing him against the wall, and Bokuto is drawing hearts around it.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, “that’s inappropriate.”

Bokuto snickers, and makes a face like Akaashi is speaking nonsense. “Do you guys even _see_ yourselves?”

“Let’s leave these behind and go get dinner,” Konoha says, tugging at Bokuto’s arm.

“For once, I agree with you,” Akaashi says.

“I haven’t even started adding glitter!” Bokuto whines.

Konoha rolls his eyes. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“I really think we ought to just leave,” Akaashi says.

Bokuto turns around and he pulls _that_ face, the one that has the magical ability to erase any of Konoha’s resentment towards him. He’s like a sad puppy. A quick glance at Akaashi confirms that the face has the same effect on him. Like Konoha, his shoulders are slumped, and he’s halfway between a sigh and a smile.

“Fine,” Konoha says, “but don’t take too long.”

“Please,” Akaashi adds.

Bokuto claps his hand together and goes back to editing the photos.

By the time he’s done, it’s barely evident that the profusion of sparkles and whimsical doodles once sat alongside pictures of people. They print the photos, and Bokuto makes Akaashi cut them because his hands are steadier. Konoha wishes that Bokuto had cut them himself. Then maybe there’d be no evidence left.

There’s a sense of relief in this ordeal being over that Konoha can’t quite describe. He just hopes they’ll have a fairly normal dinner, so that he can forget that he and Akaashi nearly killed each other in a purikura machine.

They let Bokuto pick—it’s the only safe option—and he chooses a restaurant near the station. Konoha makes it very clear to Akaashi that they’re not really on speaking terms at the moment. They sit on either side of Bokuto, as far apart from each other as is possible at a round table, and they let him dominate the conversation.

Konoha drifts in and out of attention, picking at his meal. Something feels kind of wrong, but he can’t quite pin it down.

“—and so I… hey, are you two even listening?”

“Of course I am, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says. Konoha does not miss the choice of singular over plural.

Bokuto doesn’t respond, though, just drops his chopsticks and hangs his head forwards. “This isn’t fun anymore,” he says.

“What do you mean?” Konoha asks, leaning forward, leaving the “What can I do to make it fun again?” implicit.

“It’s just that,” Bokuto says, looking up again, “I don’t know why you two asked me to hang out today if I was just going to be a third wheel.”

“A third wheel?” Konoha repeats. “Why would you—”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Akaashi interrupts. “Bokuto-san, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick.”

“You mean you two aren’t—”

“No!” Konoha almost yells, slapping down his chopsticks.

Akaashi sighs. “Maybe I should explain.”

“Don’t you dare,” Konoha says.

“Like I’m going to listen to you,” Akaashi says. It makes a nice change to hear him sound a bit rude.

“What’s going on?” Bokuto asks, bouncing up and down in his seat.

“The other day,” Akaashi says, “when we asked you to hang out, we weren’t intending for it to be all three of us. We were both asking you out separately, and—”

“Wait,” Bokuto says. “ _Wait_. You were _asking me out_? As in, on _dates_?”

“That’s what I said,” Akaashi mumbles.

Bokuto almost falls backwards in his chair, grabbing onto the table as he cackles so loudly that people in the restaurant start turning their heads towards him. “Akaashi… Konoha… you guys _like_ me? Not… _each other_?”

“Why would we like each other,” Akaashi says, “when all we’ve done today is argue?”

Akaashi is blushing, though. Konoha has never gained so much glee from someone else’s suffering. He’d be much more gleeful if he weren’t suffering too.

“You two, that’s sweet of you, really,” Bokuto says, calming down a bit, “but I like someone else…”

“Ah,” Akaashi says.

“God damn it,” Konoha says.

“But this wasn’t a waste of time, right?” Bokuto says quickly. “I mean, have you two considered, you know… ?”

Akaashi shakes his head like this is the worst idea he has ever heard. He’s still blushing.

Konoha, meanwhile, is re-evaluating his entire perspective on life. Bokuto is handling this really well, and Konoha respects that a lot. He can’t help but wonder whether he’s been confusing fondness, and lately, respect, with romantic affection. He wonders if he ever really had a crush on Bokuto, or if he just liked the _idea_ of liking him. Apart from anything else, if this date has taught Konoha anything, it’s that Bokuto would be a ridiculously high-maintenance boyfriend.

“You should at least think about it,” Bokuto says, picking up his chopsticks. “I mean, you did basically make out in the purikura booth,” he adds, his mouth full of food.

“We did not!” Akaashi protests.

“We kinda did,” Konoha says, burying his head in his hands.

Akaashi kicks him under the table. “Don’t agree with him!”

“What, when I’ve spent all day trying not to agree with _you_?”

“Wh—” Akaashi splutters. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t know,” Konoha says, frustrated, “but maybe Bokuto has a point!”

That, and Akaashi is pretty hot when he’s flustered. Konoha forces himself to look away.

Bokuto is grinning contentedly between mouthfuls. “I trust you guys. You’ll be able to work something out.”

“Let’s just finish dinner and go home, please,” Akaashi says.

“Fine by me,” Konoha says.

They’re done before long, and it’s only a short walk to the station. Konoha lets Bokuto walk in the middle, because he needs to be kept away from Akaashi. He’s not sure if he feels like punching him or kissing him.

“Well,” Bokuto says, “thanks for the date, you two!”

Akaashi looks so red that he might explode. “Y–yeah,” he says.

“Oh, hey,” Bokuto says, “can you wait five minutes? I’m going to raid the vending machines!”

As he runs off, Konoha sticks his hands on his hips. “How do you even raid a vending machine?”

“He’s a law unto himself,” Akaashi says.

“You still like him, don’t you?” Konoha asks, just about ready to be thrown off the rollercoaster of emotions he’s been riding for the last few hours.

“You really are an idiot,” Akaashi says.

Konoha frowns. “What’s that meant to mean?”

Akaashi grabs Konoha by the wrist and pulls him around a quiet corner.

“Are we really—” is all Konoha manages to say before Akaashi bends down and kisses him. It’s not pretty, and it’s nowhere near romantic, but it makes Konoha feel incredible all the same.

Akaashi is blushing ten different shades of red at once, and pulls away quickly. “Let’s get back there before Bokuto does.”

If Bokuto notices that something is different, he doesn’t say anything. He’s got too many snacks from the vending machines to notice that his two friends are looking at each other weirdly, anyway.

They part ways, on their separate trains, and Konoha clings to the railing even though he’s sitting down. He feels like if he lets go he’ll fall flat on his face. There are too many thoughts cluttering his brain as he tries to make sense out of everything that just happened, from all of the pushing and shoving and _touching_ to the blushing and kissing.

With his free hand, he pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to Akaashi.

_We should probably talk about this._

It’s not long before he gets a reply— _Probably_ —and then another, seconds later:

_We’d originally planned to see a movie today. Want to make it tomorrow?_

Konoha feels something swell inside him, a kind of weird hopefulness that he knows he’s felt before, but can’t pinpoint. He types out a reply before he has time to start second-guessing himself.

_Looking forward to it._

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment (and talk to me about Konoha)!


End file.
